


Sorrow and Joy

by LovelyOne



Category: The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 00:49:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2712857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyOne/pseuds/LovelyOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unlikely friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sorrow and Joy

The fact that Nicola Murray had a friend in the form of one Julius Nicholson would have surprised a lot of people had they ever known. 

The friendship had seeded and grown during her time at Dosac. He'd found her in a corridor at number ten, flustered and red faced, glaring at her phone. Concern had prompted him to ask if she was alright. She had laughed bitterly and said no. He had offered her tea and sympathy.

His shoulder, it turned out, was the perfect place to cry over her relationship with her husband and children. The tea was delicious and the sympathy was sincere. She could tell that such close family issues were really a mystery to him but he offered no advice that could be construed as empty or false. Whenever she arrived at his door from that point she was always welcomed in the same warm fashion.

For his part Julius found Nicola fascinating. She appeared to barrel from one catastrophe to the next both privately and professionally without pause. Chaos wrapped itself haphazardly round her, tripping her up, making her blush and stutter and forcing her in it's own direction. She provided a window to a world beyond his quiet, self enforced calm. 

From what she told him about her husband he privately wondered why on earth she would choose to remain at his side. She claimed not to love him at all. To Julius that seemed completely at odds with her behaviour. He knew love could make a person irrational, it was one of the emotional responses he could actually relate to. Loving a person did not mean you had to like them. He had near daily proof of that right from his own heart. That she claimed no love at all was baffling to him. Of course he had no way to account for the ties of offspring, nor the fear of making such a monstrously large decision as to leave the life you'd built and start again. So he always offered what comfort he could, as honestly as possible. 

Soon she found herself visiting him simply for the pleasure of it. The conversations took on a lighter tone more often and though it never moved out of the four walls of his office it took root for both of them. 

Julius soon found himself confiding in her regarding his own family. His relationships with each family member were often a source of sadness to him. He was a very solitary person by nature and preferred life in the city. The rest of the family were close knit with love for their country manor lifestyle. Effort was made on both sides on special occasions only. Mostly that was enough. It did leave him feeling like he was a constant disappointment to them. Nicola was always quick to dissuade him of such a notion whenever it arose between them.

As the years progressed and their professional roles changed the friendship moved from the oak clad office, leather wingbacks and soft lamp light exchanged for a regular phone call once a week. Friday evenings before leaving her own office she would kick off her shoes, sip her tea and settle in for an hour of catching up.

One subject was resolutely off limits.

No matter how ardently she wished to discuss it. Julius was firm.

No talk of one Malcolm F Tucker was permitted. 

The first time she attempted to blow off steam regarding Malcolm Julius had stopped her in her tracks and made her sit down. With a complicated look on his face he'd asked that they not, ever, discuss him. 

He had claimed that to open that door would mean they would never talk about anything but the Scottish Foghorn of impending Doom. She had to agree that he was right. Having an avenue to vent about Malcolm was actually unnecessary anyway. Any number of people would be willing to talk, at length, about the nightmare that was the Director of Communications. So she'd acquiesced to his one request and they never mentioned him unless in passing when talking about a related subject. 

She supposed, looking back, this should have been not just a clue but a huge neon flashing sign of Julius feelings for the man. 

She hadn't known. 

The friendship continued along its comfortable path through her leadership of the Opposition, his world becoming far more remote and alien to her own, through the shitstorm of the Inquisition, to the other side. He remained as stalwart as ever even as all others abandoned her, lamenting only on her continued marriage to a man who now openly ridiculed her for her failures both at work and as wife and mother. She found his questions on the subject harder and harder to answer coherently. 

Until the day, many long months later, that she could not answer at all. That Friday she did not call, even though it was her turn. Nor did she pick up when he grew worried and called her. 

He paced his office for over an hour until deciding that tradition be damned, he would go home. They used their mobiles anyway and he could keep calling from his study at home just as easily. He refused to think too closely about what he would do if she didn't answer at all. 

There had been occasions when the call had become impossible for one of them. The established solution was a text or email with a brief explanation and a promise of contact at the usual time the following week. If the explanation was Malcolm related then the word "bollocking" was all that was required.

This silence was therefore pretty terrifying for the peaceful man left waiting. 

When he got home he resumed pacing in his study without entering any other room. He could hear the faint tones of the news playing from the television in the lounge and sensed that the open fire was crackling merrily, he could also smell a distinctive asian aroma that made his mouth water but all that was minor detailing. His coat remained on. For once food could wait. 

Then a text arrived. 

As did a knock on his door. 

He opened the text message and the door simultaneously.

CAN I COME IN?

She stood on his doorstep, tears pouring from her eyes. She'd left him. 

Julius had never felt relief so strongly. He bundled her into his study, held her as she sobbed hysterically and promised that all would be well. He would see to it. He told her she was welcome in his home for as long as she pleased. 

Then he stopped. His eyes went wide behind his glasses. 

She felt a bubble of laughter lodge in her throat, hysterics still threatening at the surface. " You look like you've just remembered you left the oven on." She sniffed, dabbing daintily at her eyes with the handkerchief he'd given her.

"Err, yes, could quite well be just as disastrous I fear." He chuckled nervously. He took a deep breath and let it out in a single whoosh. 

"It's long past time I told you this. I do hope you will forgive my keeping it from you but it wasn't only my news to tell..."

"For goodness sake Julius, I've just left my arse of a husband and turned up at your door like a bedraggled cat. You have nothing to apologise for." Her voice shook, she couldn't begin to fathom this sudden reaction.

"It won't just be you I owe such apologies. I've been a tad over cautious and this will be my penance." He looked down at her seriously and said. "I already have company. I have a... partner" he winced at his own phrasing, as though it wasn't quite accurate.

"That's fantastic Julius, I'm sorry if I've interrupted your night!" Nicola said quickly, still at a loss as to why he would want to apologise for that.

"It's Malcolm." 

Her eyebrows rose comically high.

Oh

"Oh" she said, stupified.

"I didn't mean for it to be a secret, I certainly don't view it as something to be ashamed of. It, it just seemed easier, what with the entire 'no Malcolm' rule to put it off. Every week."

"May I ask how long?" The question felt like it was coming from some distant part of her brain, filtered through acres of cotton wool. She wasn't sure it was even particularly important.

"All told, three years and seven months." His face was red with embarrassment.

"Long time." She said faintly.

"Yes."

"So you weren't together when the rule was established."

"No, no we weren't."

"But you were in love with him. That was the reason for it."

"It was all very complicated, I was simply trying to keep my feelings separate from my job."

She looked carefully into his eyes as she told him. "You have nothing to apologise for. I promise you. If you are happy then I am nothing but pleased for you."

He let out a sigh of relief and kissed her cheek. Then he beamed. Her heart hurt for a moment. It had been a difficult day. She was glad to witness happiness in someone so dear to her. 

"Well, now to the other half of the apology." He said, looking suddenly less happy.

"He doesn't know we're friends?" She tried to keep the question light.

"Oh no, of course he does. It's just. Well. He doesn't like surprises. And I'm about to give him a bit of a shock." At her look he hurried on, "no, you are staying here, it really will be okay and I won't hear of anything else. So dry your eyes and let's go sit somewhere more comfortable."

He led her across the hall and into a huge living room. BBC news was on the flat screen, flashing red light intermittently across the room as the firelight flickered warm yellow hues in echo. As they moved into the room she caught her first view of the man who had infuriated her, terrified her, built her up and betrayed her. She waited for anger to engulf her. It didn't. She had expelled enough anger earlier in the evening. It would appear she was tapped out.

Also the sight of stripey purple socks was enough to throw her off a bit. He was lying along the three seater distressed leather sofa, feet towards fireplace, head propped on cushions, presumably to better watch the news. He'd clearly fallen asleep in the act, glasses balanced precariously on his nose. His arms were folded, hands buried in opposite armpits as though chilled, despite the roaring inferno at his toes. 

She had to admit, he looked good. Clearly whatever life with Julius was like, it suited him. His sleeping face held none of the tension she remembered as a permanent fixture while working with him. And he looked slightly more substantial, she knew Julius was a feeder so she wasn't at all surprised that the person he chose to give his heart to would benefit from that. 

She smiled ruefully at his hair. By the end of their working relationship it was so short it matched the severity of his face perfectly. She could see it was still short at the sides but the top was now a mass of salt and pepper curls. 

A softer Malcolm was actually quite a beautiful thing.

Julius carefully knelt down near his head, her view of his face remained unobstructed but she didn't think it was deliberate on Julius' part. He reached up and took the glasses from their owner's face, folded them and placed them on the coffee table behind him without looking. He then stroked one hand softly against the slumbering jaw, murmuring quietly. She couldn't make out the words. Her heart began to ache once more and tears filled her eyes. She pushed them irritably away so as not to miss any of the interaction occurring across from her. 

Malcolm stirred under Julius' hand and his own rose up to rub his bleary eyes. The smile he gave Julius when awareness caught up with him caused the tears to over spill once more. She had no idea the cross old Scot could look like that. She'd only ever seen his glare soften slightly around his beloved PA. That look was like sunlight through clouds compared to the radiant glow of happiness that was on display just for Julius Nicholson and unfortunately, herself. His arms lazily wound around his partner's body.

She suddenly felt every bit the interloper she was. This wasn't for her. It was private. She sank down in discomfort as Julius' words clearly began to register in Malcolm's brain. She tried to melt into the leather armchair, to disappear entirely. 

When he visibly froze, every muscle pulled taught and jaw clenched she wished she'd stayed in the hall and waited for Julius to give him the news. Allowed him his privacy. 

She prepared herself for the rage that was sure to come. 

He sat up suddenly, almost upsetting Julius' balance. Hissed something into the bald man's ear then abruptly stood up and left the room. 

He didn't even look her way.

She tried to decide if that was better. 

Julius turned to her with a pained grin.

"Well I think that actually went quite well." He said to her.

"Oh Julius, exactly how much has my presence cost you?" She sobbed, hands rushing up to cover her grief.

"Hey hey, no!" His warm hands gently tugged hers away from her face and he pulled her to him. He shushed her quietly and waited for her to calm.

"Malcolm has many reasons for the way he behaves. Some are good reasons, some are horrible excuses. I am constantly learning which is which. This particular reaction? There is a very real and valid reason and so I allow it without a fuss. I won't betray his trust by explaining beyond saying this. It has taken him a long time to view this space as safe. I won't find him asleep in here for a while until I can reassure him of it's security, that is the only consequence and it is not the first obstacle he and I have overcome together. We are fine, I promise."

"He looked quite angry." She replied doubtfully

"Ah well, we both know that is Malcolm Tucker's default setting." He smiled kindly. "Now I have a vague recollection of smelling indian cuisine when I entered the house earlier, what say you and I go hunt down some supper? Malcolm is particularly proud of his cooking and I'm particularly happy to eat it. I promise you won't regret it!"

Later, after a pile of delicious food had been consumed, a quiet conversation had about lawyers and starting afresh and a promise to return to it all in the morning, after some much needed sleep, Julius showed Nicola to the guest room and bid her goodnight.

She was just wearily turning down the bed when there was a knock at the door. She found Malcolm standing in the hallway looking sweetly dishevelled with his fluffy hair and his flannel pyjama bottoms and dark teeshirt. The purple socks were a remaining feature, she noted absently.

"I'm." He cleared his throat and tried again "I'm sorry about earlier. Shouldn't have stormed off."

"That's alright, Malcolm, I'm sorry I intruded."

He waved her apology away, glancing further up the hallway where light was spilling from another room. He hesitated then grinned wolfishly at her.

"I'm not sorry about your husband. He was a fucking moronic cunt and you should have kicked his lumpy arse out years ago. Good fucking riddence, yeah?"


End file.
